For Now
by h e l l b r o k e
Summary: There's something maddening about the unexpected, but drastic measures leads to drastic changes. Nolanverse. TDK. Joker/Harley
1. Chapter 1: I'm Gonna Be Strong

**Author's Note: **This story is an AU (Alternate Universe) - it didn't exactly go like it did in The Dark Knight. Although, this story takes place around the same time, making the year 2008. The Joker has been around longer than perceived in the film, and of course, Harley Quinn is involved.

So when I read Joker/Harley fanfiction I always imagine Brittany Murphy as Harley Quinn. She would've been badass just like Heath Ledger was as the Joker.

The Joker: Heath Ledger

Harley Quinn: Brittany Murphy

R.I.P To both of these amazing actors.

I plan on giving this series an 80's soundtrack, because why not. It was a lively decade with a bunch of great music. I'm obssessed, what can I say. Plus, it might be a bit cheesy, which I find a bit fitting with the Joker when it comes to music. just giving my readers something to listen to as they read the chapters.

**Summary: **There's something maddening about the unexpected, but drastic measures leads to drastic changes.

** For Now**

* * *

_"I'm gonna be strong_

_And stand as tall as I can._

_I'm gonna be strong_

_And let you go along_

_And take it like a man."_

_Blue Angel - "I'm Gonna Be Strong" (1980)_

* * *

I first fell in love with his charming personality back in Arkham when I was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Then, I fell in love with how handsome he was after the facility forced him to wash his paint off. They way his dirty blonde locks framed his face was, oh, so cute. But, sometimes I wonder if he loves me at all.

"_Of course he loves me._"

It seems like I have been trying to believe he does these past couple of weeks, but failing to. It just hasn't been the same since I have find out about my condition, and since I realized of my uncertainty of what could happen. He can be a violent man, my puddin'.

"_I wonder if he will love you too," _I whisper.

I look down as my hands caress my slightly swollen stomach over my satin robe. My breath hitches as I feel slight movement under one of my palms. I move my hands to follow each tiny kick from the baby.

Sometimes I wonder how our lives would be like if we were not criminals. We'd live in an average suburban house with a white picket fence. In the morning time, I'd kiss my Mistah Jay goodbye as he drives to work; maybe he would be a lawyer, or a doctor. He is smart after all. And, I'd happily stay home and care for our little one. Would it be a boy or a girl? If it's a boy we'd call him Jack, if it's a girl we'd call her... Emily. At night, I'd give our baby a kiss goodnight as we tuck him in and head to sleep in our own clean bedroom, of course in each others' arms. Our small family would be the envy of the neighborhood. In this fantasy, we wouldn't have to worry about puddin not loving us, because he would say those three little words everyday. No more fighting, and no more tears.

_Yeah, right. _I'd be lucky if he didn't kill me if I told him, or even figured it out. Mistah Jay is not as perfect as I try to make him out to be. He usually seems to not care how much I beg him to stop during a fight, or how much I cry. He doesn't always take my opinion into consideration, even when he is wrong.

He is wonderful when he wants to be. Just yesterday, he was holding me after making love, and tickling me, and blowing raspberries all over on my stomach. Oh, he just loves to make me squirm under his touch. Of course I made sure we were in the dark and I refused to be fully in the nude, claiming that it was too cold, to which I received a hard glare. But, after a bit of... persuasion he gave in.

"You've gained some weight, Harls."

I quickly slide my hands to rest on my slim thighs to try to smooth out the sudden shakes as I look towards him from the reflection of my vanity, which he had one of the boys go buy, or steal, for my birthday two years ago. I try to mask the hurt from his comment by picking up my hairbrush and running it through my semi-wet golden locks.

"Oh, pud, you're so mean," I continued to brush my hair while blinking a couple times to soothe the stinging of tears to be. Even if having a baby is going to disrupt my lifestyle, I can never _get rid of it_... Even if he wants me to.

"Job's not keeping you busy enough?"

Smirking, he continued, "I can't have a whale hogging the bed."

Instinctively, my hand quickly rests on my belly, and I pretend I don't see him see it. Is he testing me? Sometimes, I wonder if he has it figured out. My puddin is an intelligent man after all. I see him lick at his scars, his beautiful scars, impatiently. And, it almost makes me burst out in tears and ask for his forgiveness, but I have to be strong.

He's standing behind me with no makeup; it's a sight that still takes my breath away. He looks human without the disturbing war paint. _I'm the only one who knows his scars are ticklish._ If society was to see him in this state he would be deemed as beautiful. Yet, even when he does he still says the most cruel things.

I look away from his reflection in the mirror and focus on brushing my hair.. How can I not? I cannot handle staring into those endless pools that can drown you, reach in, and uncover your darkest secrets.

Lately, I feel him not trusting me as much. I have seen him studying me, like he is right now, and it scares me. As I set my brush on the mannequin, I sigh. _Bastard_.

"I'm sorry, what was that, _darling_?"

His torso is slightly pushing against my back as he tightens his hold on my slender shoulder, challenging me. A steady shiver crawls up my spine causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. _Here we go again._

"Nothing," I whispered, too familiar with the situation to move.

His cold eyes ignore my distress. His tongue brushes the inside of his scarred cheeks. I close my eyes in fear of being struck. I feel his hand on my shoulder let go, probably disgusted at my fear.

_And I still have minor bruises from the other day._

He forcefully shoves my head to side as if he is a child, and stalks out of our bedroom. After a good while of being rigid in hopes him not returning, I open my eyes to see that I am alone in our bedroom. He probably went to his studies to fume. I slowly lower the hairbrush that was held up against my chest in fright on to the vanity. Letting out a loud sigh, I silently thanked whoever was listening to me that he wasn't in the mood to deal with my behavior. Staring at my own reflection, I angrily warned myself, "Next time you won't be so lucky, _Harls_."

I feel my lips quivering as I try to hold back the tears that are threatening to escape from frustration. Frustrated, because of how I dealth with the situation just now, even though I was successful from keeping Mistah Jay from hurting me. Frustrated, because of the situation that I'm in. Frustrated, knowing I can't keep dealing with his questioning eyes. Frustrated, because I cannot keep hiding this from him. Frustrated, because It has come to the point to where I try to avoid contact with him when I have the strength to, especially with my stomach.

No matter how insulting he can be, I'm not stupid. I know time is running out. As much as it hurts me, I must do it for the sake of my growing child. My puddin' is never going to love me again after this.

I wipe the harsh tears away with the sleeves of my satin robe. I stand up and dress into my a ugly, oversized sweatshirt and sweat pants before climbing into the welcoming bed. I have a plan to work on to keep my baby, and possibly myself, alive.

Drastic changes calls for drastic measures.

* * *

**Author's note: **I plan on continuing this. Just recently I had a clearer vision of what direction this fic would go. Plus, the soundtrack will inspire me a lot. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please review! Give me ideas if you have any, or constructive criticism, or just love! Reviews keep me going; don't be shy!

Revised on 1/6/2017


	2. Chapter 2: Pale Shelter

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, I'm back! I revised chapter one (once again), so I suggest you go back and reread it because I added some new stuff/edited out other stuff and notes in chapter one. Anyways, I hope folks are still reading TDK fanfiction!

I plan on giving this series an 80's soundtrack, because why not. It was a lively decade with a bunch of great music. I'm obssessed, what can I say. Plus, it might be a bit cheesy, which I find a bit fitting with the Joker when it comes to music. These songs will give you somewhat of an insight on the chapters. Anyways, I just want to give my readers an option of what to listen to as they read the chapters.

The Joker: Heath Ledger

Harley Quinn: Brittany Murphy

R.I.P To both of these amazing actors.

**Summary:** There's something maddening about the unexpected, but drastic measures leads to drastic changes.

**For Now**

* * *

_"When you don't give me love,_

_You give me pale shelter._

_You don't give me love,_

_You give me cold hands._

_And I can't operate on this failure..."_

_Tears for Fears - "Pale Shelter" (1983)_

* * *

Harley woke up in the middle of the night with the sheets twisted around her burning legs. Still half-asleep, Harley automatically groaned and got up. Dragging her feet on the carpet to crack open a window. The carpet he had installed, just for her. The carpet that was once so clean, only to be tainted by fits of anger - blood stains.

Realizing that she was awake doing so, she glanced over from her spot to see the bed empty, meaning Mistah Jay never came to bed. A slight sense of worry washed over her. _He won't be able to operate and succeed on his jobs without a good night rest._

She quickly threw the thought away upon remembering her current, stressful predicament. Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table, flashing an angry red glow, the only source of light in the room, that read _4:13am_. Harley, then, spotted all the covers pushed onto the floor. _It sure is hot._

Sneaking towards the closed bedroom door, Harley pressed her warm ear against the cool surface listening for any signs of movement. If she remembers correctly, the Joker had told her earlier about a _business_ over at Maroni's. Assuming it was clear on the other side of the door, she began her way to their closet, well, mostly her closet. She covered her mouth quickly as a soft giggle formed due to the memory of when she first moved in resurfacing..

_Almost three years ago..._

It was in the middle of the night when the Joker kicked through the door carrying loads of suitcases, muttering curses as he did so. The Joker had earlier told Harley that it was easier and safer for them to bring her belongings from her apartment in the dark, the only time when the streets were rather empty, from the police that is.

"Jeez, Harls, did ya really need _all_ of this junk?"

Coming in with only a handbag in tow, she inhaled a deep, blissful breath of Mistah Jay's bedroom, well, their bedroom now, ignoring that it was decorated with stale air. Delighted that she could finally be with him, completely.

"Its not junk, puddin, its my clothes and make up. Besides, don't you want me to look good?" Harley asked fishing for a compliment.

With a groan of relief, the Joker dropped all of Harley's stuff on to the floor. In all seriousness, the Joker muttered, "You always look good."

Taking Harley by surprise, she threw herself at him, clinging onto him. "Oh, puddin!"

Yelping, the Joker said, "Hey! Easy there."

Her face pressed against his chest she said, "Sorry, Mistah Jay.. I'm just so happy right now."

Soon enough, he gave up and wrapped his arms around her for a moment, "Let's put this _junk_ away, hmm?"

Still in his arms, she complied, "It's not junk."

He released her and lead her to it. Finally seeing the inside of his closet, Harley gasped, "Mistah Jay! It's practically empty!"

Of course, except for a couple of his suits and pyjamas. She felt sorry for him.

Not liking that look on her face, the Joker wanted to pull her by her hair just for pitying him. Calming down, he replied, "Who needs materialistic things?"

With a giggle she replied, "Your Harley does, besides who doesn't like a couple of nice things here and there?"

Glancing around to emphasize all of Harley's suitcases thrown all over the floor, the Joker was amused, "A couple?"

With faux irritation Harley began setting her many pairs of shoes in the closet, "Oh, hush."

After a moment of Mistah Jay watching her, she teased, "Like what you see, Jay?"

There was a twinkle in his eyes, but his tone of voice meant business. "I'm gonna go have a word with the boys."

She looked back at him in slight dissappointment. "You're not going to help me?"

"Eh, no, but you better hurry because when I return you'll look _really_ good in my bed," with a wink he left.

_Present time..._

The memories kept her there, staring into the closet. The darkness spilling out seemed so uninviting. As if begging her to go back to bed, and try again some other day. Because, the second she heave-hos with a bag filled with minimal necessesities, she was betraying him. Everything that he's done for her will be spat back in his face. And, she still feels the way her heart clenched and stomach hurled after witnessing what he did to one of the goons - he only took a thousand, he swore. Said something about needing help to pay for his grandmother's medical bills. Apparently, his grandmother had been really sick - and Harley felt so bad.

The memory was a mere echo, _'Jay, stop!'_

_A hand to her throat, cutting off her oxygen._

_'Have something __**t**__o say, sweethear__**t**__?'_

She hasn't seen that boy ever since - he was barely pushing nineteen. She can still feel her skin crawling from the mere thought of it. His fingers digging into her neck. Bright eyes pleading him to let go. The swirls of bruises the next day bluring her vision. And, the Joker pretended nothing ever happened.

_It's awfully quiet, too quiet.._

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Harley pulled out one of her duffle bags used for weapons from the corner; she made sure she did not grab one of the Joker's out of caution. She couldn't see well due to the pure darkness that engulfed her. Almost tripping over the record collection on the floor on the closet, Harley held out her hands in front of her. She hoped she was grabbing a couple of seperate shirts, sweaters, and bottoms. As her hands kept reaching into the closet, she felt the stretchy material of the spandex. Immediately knowing what it was, her eyes began to sting. Feeling it, she silently said a fairwell to the Harley Quinn persona. The Joker's girlfriend. His lover.

Setting the duffle bag by her shoeless feet, Harley shredded her pyjamas. Instantly feeling relief from the intense heat of the summer night. Feeling for a t-shirt, jeans, a light sweater, and a pair of comfortable shoes, she changed as stealthily as she could.

_Just in case._

Harley brought the duffle bag to the wooden dresser in the other side of the room, and carefully pulled open a drawer containing her lingerie and socks. Pulling out a handfuls and stuffing it into the bag, Harley sighed.

_i'm actually doing this._

After grabbing whatever she could from the bathroom, uncluding toiletries, she peeked out the window. From what she could see, the compound was dark, but empty. The cadillac and the other vans were gone, meaning she had a clear break to walk out without any trouble.

Cautiously, Harley held out her duffle bag in front of her as she walked through the wearhouse, watching out for any signs of one of the goons that could have stayed behind, perhaps, to keep an eye on her. Finding herself to be completely alone, Harley headed towards the front door, and left.

She took a peek of the compound behind her. _Goodbye, Jay._

As she walked on the sidewalk of the empty street, she reached for her cellphone in her back pocket. Once she found Detective Gordon's number that she searched for on the internet a while back, she sent him a message:

_'I need Batman. Tell him to meet me in the alley between 23rd St. and St. Annes's.'_

Harley thought, _He's a cop, he's gotta answer._

She thought correctly. In less than three minutes, she received a text message from the detective himself:

_'Who's this?'_

Harley desperately answered back:

_'Please just tell him.. This isn't a trap.'_

Harley continued to walk to her destination. Far enough from the Joker's hide out, but close enough to be of walking distance. She kept to herself as shady chracters stared after her, hoping they left her alone. She wasn't worried of getting robbed, or mugged, or worse. Harley just didn't want to cause a scene.

Arriving at her destination, she set her duffle bag against the wall, and leaned against it as well.

While waiting impatiently, Harley tapped her fingers against the wall. Soon enough, Batman stepped out of the shadow, confusion in his voice. "Harley?"

Startled, Harley yelled out, "Oh my God!"

Catching her breath, she glared at him. "Can't you wait around like normal people?"

Batman spoke, his deep voice clear, "Gordon told me the message he received seemed suspicious."

Harley took a hold of her bag again, "What, he doesn't received distressed calls or messages? He's a cop for crying out loud."

Batman took notice of her bag, actually surprised. "This isn't a time for games.. Where's the Joker?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. Look, this isn't some joke... I need out."

Clenching his jaw, "And, I'm suppose to believe that?"

Hunching her shoulders in defeat, "Yes."

Realizing her tone of voice wasn't high pitched or, perhaps, degraiding to the ears, Batman stared into her eyes looking for any hidden meanings; he found none. "You're serious.. You want to go to Arkham?"

Harley let out an exasperated sigh. "No, he'll find me there," desperately she added, "And, it's more complicated than that. I just need to run away. I need to dissappear without a trace."

"Why?"

Bluntly, she stated, "I'm pregnant."

The stillness of the night was deafening. For a second, Batman yearned for this to be some sort of trick; knowing it would have been much easier than this. Quickly glancing and noticing the slight bump highlighted by one of the dim street lights, he sighed.

"No cash?"

Harley shook her head, "Jay takes care of that."

"I can pay for a motel for the night-"

"No! He'll find me! Look, I need to leave Gotham as soon as possible.."

Batman took a hold of her duffle bag, feeling the insides of it.

"Hey!"

After inspecting the contents, making sure threats were not present."Any weapons on you?"

Harley pulled a pocket knife from her front pocket. "This was just for self-defense, I swear."

Batman tucked the old pocket knife into one his belt pouches, and paused for a moment. "The phone, throw it out."

Hearing the cellphone _clank_ against the metal of the dumpster was almost satisfying.

He pulled the duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed a firm hold of Harley's arm, "Can you keep a secret?"

* * *

**Author's note: **Dun! Dun! Dun! Sorry, for the cliffhanger, but that's what keeps a story interesting, right? Hype the readers for the next chapter, ya know? I'll probably revise this because I'm not satisfied with it. I just wanted to post a second chapter due to not wanting to keep my readers who have this story on alert waiting. ALL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.

Please review! Let me know how I did. Got an idea? You should definitely share it with me! If you have constructive criticism, let me know! Or if you just want to share the love, go on ahead! Reviews keep me happy and inspired!

Anyways, just wanted to say that if you grew up playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, then I am sure you are familiar with the song for this chapter. If you're not sure, then listen to it on Youtube. It's a great song! That game is one of the reason as to why I love 80s music, that and the film with Adam Sandler, The Wedding Singer. The Goonies is the reason why I love Cyndi Lauper. Sorry, I'm rambling..

Until next time!


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